He laughs in bitter agreement.

"As if losing a part of yourself is something anyone would choose." They weren't cyborgs. The technology, much as it has improved over the years and with the assistance of Pokémon like Rotom, was not flawless. If there were a chance to restore his arm of flesh and blood, there's no question of what choice he'd make. "I feel like an animal in a zoo, sometimes, the way they look at me."

Once, he'd prided himself on his ability to go unnoticed. Life was easier that way. Now, he couldn't avoid the stares. That they were not malicious didn't matter; they made him feel other.

Friends.

He looks surprised, then smiles.

"I would like that," he says of lunch. "I'd like to know the good spots in Mauville. I've lived in Hoenn my whole life, but the move to Verdanturf is recent." Before, when he'd needed something from a big city, it had been Lilycove he'd gone to.

Nikita is added to a rather small list of contacts under friends. Rangers is the largest group, but Tam Fawley, Caleb Harcourt, and Calliope Marks have managed to work their way onto the short list.

"I do like Kalosian food."

He smiles, though it's quick to vanish under the thought of heading back to work. He sighs with a glance out the window; the sun will only be up for a couple more hours, and he knows it's imperative to fix the fence before Capella decides on a midnight romp.

"You're no trouble," he assures Nikita, sensing her discomfort in lingering overlong, "but I do have to work on those repairs."

It was harder with a prosthetic arm, but he's too stubborn to beg help from the neighbours or even his friends. If it took him all night, he'd figure out how to do it himself.

"Take care," he adds, by way of farewell.